


Prompt #4

by theredheadinadress



Series: Tumblr Oneshots [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Adlock, Drug Use, F/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredheadinadress/pseuds/theredheadinadress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds Irene high on opium but there's something more to it that just a need to get high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the Tumblr prompt: Adlock/Teenlock. Sherlock finding Irene high on opium.

Although Sherlock knew Irene Adler was no drug addict, he was aware that she had on several occasions experimented with narcotics. It was part of the reason why she had no problem with his own, past and present, drug habit. She understood his need for stimulation in a world so ordinary. She didn’t judge him and had simply allowed him to continue inject it into himself, however since her more frequent appearances in his life as of late, he had found himself needing to get high less and less. Instead, the need for artificial highs were replaced with the natural high of sex, something he hadn’t been interested in the slightest before she had entered his life.

She had seen him on several occasions in a drug induced state and he had had no qualms about her seeing him like that. However, now that the tables had turned and she was here, evidently high, he began to feel a whole realm of emotions, mostly anger for endangering herself so recklessly.  Before her, he had cared little, having learnt from the experience of Redbeard that caring too much only led to immense incurable pain. Instead, he had buried himself in other things, his cold exterior frightening off any potential ‘friends’, but a chance encounter with Irene had suddenly started to bring down that exterior and he was starting to…care?

 “Why are you here?” Sherlock growled.

He had opened his bedroom door, of the house he shared with his older brother Mycroft whilst he was enrolled in school at Westminster, to find no less than Irene Adler sat cross legged on the middle of his bed evidently high.

“Ivan is in Belgravia.” Irene said simply, closing her eyes. “I didn’t want to get caught.”

Ivan was her Uncle and guardian since her parents had died some years prior. Although Sherlock had not met the man, since he was rarely in London, choosing to reside in his various residences around the world instead, Sherlock was aware that Irene and her Uncle had a turbulent relationship and that whenever the man was around in London; Irene chose to stay either in her dorm room at Westminster or Sherlock’s house.

“No. If you didn’t want to get caught you’d go to your dorm room, nobody ever disturbs you there. If you didn’t want to get caught you wouldn’t have come here because you know this is exactly where you’d be caught. You wanted to get caught.”

Irene laughed to herself and fell back onto the pillows of his bed with a smile.

“So what if I did Sherlock?”

“Irene what’s wrong?” Sherlock said, not even bothering to mask the concern in his voice.

“Nothing.” Irene shook her head, a smile still plastered on her face. “Do you want some?” She added, lifting her head slightly off of the pillow to look at him.

“No.” Sherlock growled. “I want to know what happened. In the months I’ve known you, you’ve not once taken anything, what’s happened to make you do it now?”

“I got bored.” She responded. “Now stop being a Detective and join me.”

Sherlock frowned once more and noted the fact she still had wet hair and was wrapped in his dressing gown. She must have only gotten here an hour before at the most, so if she’d started using after her shower then there was still a good few hours left of her high left before she’d come down. Knowing full well that he wouldn’t get much information out of her until she had come down, Sherlock wandered over to the adjoining bathroom to find the room a mess. She never did like tidying up for herself and he was going to have to do clear it up, as the maid had long since refused to even enter his room after an unfortunate incident with one of his mould experiments.  However, Sherlock blinked back his shock as he entered the spacious bathroom to find not just the conventional mess of towels and shampoo bottles strewn about the floor but the pile of Irene’s clothes, torn and very much bloodied, her underwear almost a scrap of fabric drenched in scarlet.

“Irene?” Sherlock called out, concern now evidently riddled in his voice.

Her high was certainly not the product of being bored, she’d felt compelled to do this because something had happened to her and Sherlock wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know what. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock watched over her like a Hawk as she came down from her high. He tried to read a book of tobacco ash but found that he didn’t like tearing his eyes from the girl on his bed in order to read the pages and so he soon gave up even attempting to. As the hours went by, Sherlock made sure that there were not complications, she’d evidently taken opium before and had been careful not to overdose, although he was sure that that had taken much restraint on Irene’s part. He watched as she ran to the bathroom and threw up twice and he followed to make sure she didn’t pass out or anything and choke. It was all rather nasty stuff, the darker side of drug taking that nobody ever talked about. However, her nausea did pass and although the opium was still in her system she was no longer in a euphoric state when Sherlock’s maid called up that supper was ready. Sherlock declined for them both, rather rudely yelling down two flights of stairs, before moving to sit back in his armchair, scrutinising Irene who was lounging on his bed.

“What happened?”

Irene glared up at him and spat. “Use your brain Sherlock. Deduce Detective.”

Sherlock nodded, she was all but confirming his deductions. “You should go to the Hospital.”

However, Irene merely waved his concern away. “I’m on the pill.”

“Pregnancy isn’t the only potential problem Irene.”

“I’m fine.” She retorted.

“Well you evidently weren’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten high.”

Irene merely rolled her eyes. “I got high because I could, because _I_ wanted to.  Not because of shame or trying to forget or suppress what happened. Bad things happen Sherlock, it’s what happens in this world and there is no point trying to pretend otherwise.”

“You should report him.”

“Oh yes and risk being disowned by him? No thank you Sherlock, I lead a life of luxury, funded by his bank account and I’d rather not have that gone, I am rather fond of Burberry’s new collection. Anyway, he has sole access of my trust fund and I definitely can’t afford to lose that.”

Sherlock frowned, trying to work out what to do.

“I’m not going to cry Sherlock, or break for that matter. You can stop looking at me like that. I’m stronger than you think.” She said with a stone cold face, free from emotion.   
“Hmm.” Sherlock mused, still deep in thought.

“Stop thinking Sherlock. I know what you’re doing.” She said, slowly getting up from the place on the bed. “You’re not going to do anything.”

“Hmmm.” Sherlock pressed his lips together, not really taking in what Irene was telling him.

He wasn’t aware of anything but his thoughts, until Irene pushed the book from his hands and straddled his lap. She nestled her head between his shoulder and neck like a cat would, forcing her presence onto him. “I can feel myself coming down Sherlock, give me another high.” She whispered into his ear.

***

Sherlock awoke to the sound of movement and the patter of feet walking across the exposed wood flooring of his bedroom. Wiping sleep from his eyes he was very much aware that Irene was no longer in his bed next to him, looking up he noticed her small frame standing at the foot of his bed with her back to him. The moon cascading through the slightly open double windows made her pale skin glow in the early morning light.

“I have to go.” Irene sighed, refusing to turn around but fully aware that Sherlock was now awake. “That’s why he’s back; I’m leaving London.”   
“Where?” Sherlock asked as he pushed the covers back and stepped around his bed to where she was standing.

Irene smiled sadly. “I can’t tell you that.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him as he approached her.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d follow me.”   
“So what?”

“Oh Sherlock.” Irene said sadly, letting his arms wrap around her, encasing her protectively. “I know you love me, in your own way, but you have to let me go.”

Sherlock neither confirmed nor denied her comments, instead choosing to ignore them completely and address the final part of her words. “No.”

Irene lifted her head slightly from his naked chest to look him in the eye.

“I won’t let you go when you won’t tell me why you’re leaving in the first place. I know dramatics are rather your thing but I need to know why.”

“Curiosity killed the cat Sherlock.”

“What?” Sherlock frowned, evidently not knowing the idiom.

Irene rolled her eyes; of course he wouldn’t know it. “Never mind my clever Detective.”

“I’ll find out. You know I will. I’ll go ask Mycroft and if Mycroft doesn’t know I’ll hack his computer.”

“You hate asking your brother for things.” Irene retorted. “You wouldn’t beg your brother, he’d lord it all over you.”   
“But I would.” Sherlock whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her arms.

After a silence that felt like a lifetime Irene responded, having finally built up the courage to pull back from his embrace. “You can’t Sherlock, not this time.”

Sherlock watched as the dark haired girl stepped back from him and went to pick up the purple shirt from where he’d thrown it before going to sleep.  Irene slipped it on and it fell to her knees but there was no way she was leaving dressed in yesterday’s clothes. He watched her as she pulled on her trench coat but letting it hang open slightly. Without her makeup and in his baggy clothes she looked a sight, but neither or them cared. He watched her without saying anything because there was nothing else left to say. He couldn’t persuade her to stay, not without admitting something he wasn’t ready to admit.

“Goodbye Mister Holmes.” She uttered, having finished dressing herself and standing on her tiptoes to kiss the curly haired boy’s cheek.

*

Sherlock didn’t follow her as she left the room; he was still trying to comprehend everything that had happened in the last 12 hours and why Irene was acting as she was. Irene tiptoed down the hall and down the stairs to the ground floor, with her heels in her hand, ready to be put on when she reached the door.

“Leaving Ms Adler?” Irene whirled around as she got halfway down the hall to find the door to Sherlock older brother’s study wide opened and no less than Mycroft himself sitting behind the mahogany desk.

“Yes.” Irene replied. “You can be happy now, I will no longer be a bad influence on your younger brother Mr Holmes, I won’t be returning.”

Ever since Irene’s initial introduction with Sherlock, Mycroft had let it be known that he did not like the 17 year old girl in the slightest. She had a murky past with the law and an even murkier family life. He hated the fact Irene was constantly around and evidently having sex with his brother, which was one of the reasons Sherlock and Irene continued to do so, rather vocally and in places Mycroft was bound to catch them.

 “Now why is that?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, already knowing some but not all of the details of why Irene was being forcibly removed from London and thus the involvement with the Holmes’.

“You know why.”

“And are you going to help me stop it?”

Irene raised an eyebrow and Mycroft took that as a resounding no.

“Your Uncle may do some questionable dealings but he is under the protection of some very influential Russian Oligarchs. Without your help, I’m helpless to stop him.”

“No.”

“You really don’t care about my brother at all do you?”

“Oh contraire Mr Holmes, I care a great deal, which is why I’ll be on the plane to St. Petersburg tonight.” Irene knew she’d slipped up in telling Mycroft where she was heading, but she also knew that Mycroft was very unlikely to pass that information on to Sherlock anyway.

Her Uncle hadn’t been happy in the slightest that his niece had been fraternizing with the brother of an influential man in MI5 and so had given Irene an ultimatum. Leave for St. Petersburg with him on the next available plane, or he would personally put a bullet through Sherlock Holmes’ head; and so Irene Adler had made one of the hardest decisions of her life, to leave Sherlock Holmes and break both of their hearts.


End file.
